Page 6 of Blood of Dragons

My eyes shifted back and forth between them, the animosity so strong between us, it was hard to believe we were related, however distantly. It was a smell in the air, like a rotting corpse.It was repugnant and unmistakable. That was how it always felt in their presence—and it was the worst when Uncle Barron was around. He was no uncle to me, but Father insisted that we call him that.

Kael exchanged another look with Jairo. “We brought our gift to King Bolton. Here’s to many more years.” He nodded to Jairo, and the two brothers took the circular staircase back to the main floor.

I looked at Silas.

He looked at me.

“I don’t like them.”

“No shit.”

I looked at the new wine barrel that had been placed there, looking undistinguishable from the rest that were around. The name of the wine and vintage were written on the wood, coming from the Barsetti Vineyards to the north. The soil was rich in those areas, so their harvests were some of the best. “We should tell Father about this.”

“Tomorrow,” Silas said. “Would hate to ruin his birthday.”

I stood in the great hall, the walls painted with murals of our history, of a great line of kings that had endured for hundreds of years. In my uniform with my sword across my back, I stared at the images of our rich lands, the beautiful sea, the portraits of the kings that came before me, whose ranks I would join once I was dead.

His footsteps were audible against the tile as he approached. “Did you have fun last night?” He was regal in his uniform, the symbol of the black crown woven into it because he refused to wear a crown upon his brow. He called it a tiara.

I turned to him. “I did. What about you?”

“I woke up just an hour ago. That should answer your question.” He came to my side then looked at the mural I had admired a moment ago. “Time passes so quickly, doesn’t it? By the time you understand your own mortality, you’re already so close to death, so close to joining the ranks of those whose time has already passed.”

“Father, you aren’t close to death.”

“I’m closer to death than to birth.” He pulled his eyes from the mural and looked at me. “But enough of that. What brings you here?”

I’d become so absorbed in my conversation with him I’d forgotten the reason for my visit. He had a magnetic presence, something that just sucked you in to the exclusion of everything else. “I have something to tell you.”

“Yes?”

“Silas and I were in the wine cellar last night?—”

“Yes, he gifted me the wine. It looks like piss, but it’s still quite the souvenir.”

“I’m glad you don’t plan on drinking it.”

“I know my wine, son.” He patted my shoulder. “What were you saying?”

“While we were down there, Jairo and Kael delivered a wine barrel.”

Father stared, as if waiting for the rest of the sentence. “Yes?”

“Said it was a gift for you, but it felt sinister.”

“Sinister, how?”

“By the way they were acting, they knew they shouldn’t be there. Makes me think they were there for nefarious purposes.”

He started to step away, to look at the mural that stretched from the ceiling to the floor. “Why do you assume the worst of people?”

“I don’t assume the worst. Something about that moment unsettled me, and I’m passing that information on to you.”

He stared at the mural. “Well, thank you for letting me know.”

I stared at the side of his face, feeling the annoyance spread from my chest to my gut. “Why do you assume the best of people?”

He stared a moment longer before he turned back to me. “Because that’s the only way life is worth living. I know my heart, and I like to think others share the same sentiment. There may be some bad apples in this world, but most of them are golden.”

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